Raw

[Verse 1 - Vinnie Paz:] I run with Puerto Rocs, Morenos, Costa Ricans, and some Guidos My bullets quick and fly around your head like they’re mosquitoes The mark they leave inside your body smaller than a needle The fiends here get their rock n' roll like they’re the Beatles I’m from Philly and the killers on the block is my people And that’s regardless of the fact they’re moving rock and diesel It ain’t nothing for me to bust a fucking shot at people For me to run up on your spot and bust a Glock at people And my fam, they’re waiting patiently to clap a round My hands are strong enough to spin the earth and crack the ground My crib like a gun store, Vinnie keep the heaters And fucking with me only gets you close to meeting Jesus The man that tried to battle Pazienza, he’s in pieces That goes for anybody else that Vinnie P. competes with I’ll die for any of my cousins that I run the streets with And for the motherfuckers that I share the m-i-c with